


Of Dads and Demons

by ptycster



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Challenges, Crack, Demons, Gen, Humor, Other, Translation, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 17:35:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2660609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptycster/pseuds/ptycster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a certain dark mystery in Miles' dad's past. Chandler is intrigued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Dads and Demons

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Не поминай папу всуе](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/84620) by Enchantress. 



> Written for the prompt "Demonology," so Miles and Chandler are not exactly human beings. They have human emotions though :)
> 
> Huge thanks for beta to yuma (yuma_writes).

“Oi–what the devil!..”

It was unusual for Joe to flare up and swear, and not because his parents brought him up to be polite. Well, not only because of that. The truth was it was hard to strike a chord in the nixie’s cold heart. 

Miles scowled and gave his DI a dark look:

“You better leave my dad alone.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Joe muttered. “To hell with you and your dad.”

“I mean it, sir. Better not take dad’s name in vain.” Miles held a dramatic pause for a couple of seconds, then added:

“You wouldn't want to summon him, would you?”

Something in his voice made Joe calm down and look at his DS with sudden interest. The demon never talked about his relatives. Not that he was very talkative anyway.

Or was it because Joe never asked about his family?  

“So what? See your pa, catch up on old times.”

Miles frowned.

“I’ll pass, thank you very much.”

“Why? Don’t you love your daddy?” Joe prodded, feeling his way in a new role of a friend. It would take some getting used to, having a friend. But he felt teased. Miles acted strangely, and it piqued Joe’s curiosity.

“On the contrary,” Miles retorted in earnest. “But distance makes love stronger. His presence in this world spells trouble and headache.”

“You serious?”

“Dead serious,” DS scowled.

“Will you tell me about it?”

“No way!” The demon seemed almost frightened by the suggestion. “Can’t talk about such things in polite company. I’ll die of shame.”   
  


They had an agreement between them: _‘No’_ means _‘No’_. Still, the DI would sometimes interpret Miles’ _‘No’_ as _‘Basically, it’s a “No”, but get a lube in the right concentration, and you may crawl up this ass.’_ Not often; but this time Joe was really intrigued. He was dying for an answer.

Speculations about what Miles’ father might have done on the Earth haunted Joe day and night. After waking up, for the fifth time running, from a dream full of hellhounds, Horsemen of Apocalypse and fallen… not angels (which would be perfectly logical), fallen maidens, Joe launched a rigorous information squeezing campaign. He made Buchan compile a list of the worst calamities of the 20th century, studied it diligently and then, brimming with knowledge, stuck on Miles like a leech.  


“He assumed the corporeal form of Josephine,” Joe made it sound like a statement, not a question.

Miles, who was busy checking the witness list, froze as he tried to take this in. He scrolled back to their last conversation (which had to do with a certain dismembered corpse and related evidence), but this did not help much. Joe’s logic was hard to follow.

“He who?”

“Your father. He assumed the form of Josephine and pushed Napoleon into unleashing the war.”

Miles took a deep breath. It seemed that he wasn’t going to get off lightly. But he wasn’t getting up without a fight.

“Not even close. What Dad did was much worse.”

“Hitler!” Joe attempted with renewed vigour.

The DS checked the paper against the screen and proceeded to sort out witness statements to be filed.

“I only wish he were. A great deal more people came to harm through my father’s brilliant ideas. 

This made Joe give the matter some serious thought and the sergeant two days of peace.

“Andrei Sakharov?” Joe waylaid Miles at the station door and quite succeeded in dampening the latter’s spirits first thing in the morning.

“Russia? Freezing cold and bears?” The DS snorted. “Not exactly our type of climate.”

“Teller, then,” Joe moved on to the next guess. 

“Not even close. Believe me, it’s much worse than you can imagine.”

   
For the next three months, Joe besieged his DS with guesses. Miles learnt who created the deadliest viruses of the century, was reminded of half of the world’s dictators and made aware of the other half. And yet the demon held on.

It was showbiz that finally broke him down. 

“Elvis…”

“…lives,” Miles gave Joe a tired look. “I’m almost scared to ask, but how does this brain of yours function? Pray, what’s the connection between Elvis and demons?”

“Well, it is somewhat far-fetched,” Joe admitted reluctantly, “but Buchan believes there’s something diabolical about this one. No one has dragged as many souls right down to hell as Elvis did.”

“What are you talking about, for Pete’s sake?” Miles muttered. He had a hunch he would regret the question; his brain long screwed out and begged for mercy.  

“All those sects, they break the second Commandment. _‘Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image’_ , you know,” Joe explained.  


Miles did regret the question.

“Okay.”

He sighed and looked around to make sure no one could hear them. He motioned Joe to lean closer:

“I will tell you, but you have to promise you’ll take it to the grave. Because this is a true disgrace to our satanic family!”

Joe nodded solemnly, placing his hand on his heart:

“I swear.”

“The fucking Windows!” Miles breathed with feeling. “It’s my Daddy who’s to blame for the invention of that goddamn OS!”


End file.
